THE CHOSEN ONES — PART 3

A comber of relief, however meek, rolled through Nick as she caved. He hugged her, relishing in this moment, hoping, praying she would make it. That he would be able to slow them down enough.

Nick was glad she didn't look back as she jogged away. It didn't need to be any harder. It was lucky he talked her into leaving at all.

He snuck around the boulder, leaning against a tree as he watched the slope. It wasn't a full five minutes before he saw the dogs. Two husky-sized dogs sniffing the ground, whining.

It was a shame, but Nick sucked in a breath and aimed. In the last second, he shifted the gun and shot at the ground under the paws. The dog jumped, startled. They both started barking, not daring to come closer. The trailer gang gained in another half a minute, urging the dogs to venture forward again. Nick cursed, aimed and shot. One of the men went down screaming, gabbing at his thigh. The woman kneeled by his side, others opened fire at the boulder. Nick cowered behind it, thinking their rules didn't overweigh their anger.

But then someone yelled at them to stop. They argued, but Nick couldn't make anything out over the dogs barking. He peeked out and saw they leashed the pets. It was good. He didn't want to shoot them. It felt nasty. More so than shooting people, and the idea alone made him a bit sick.

"You can run but you can't hide!" the woman called, rising to her feet as her wounded companion was being helped to sit against the tree by two others. "This is the end of your road, so why make it so hard on yourselves and so easy on us? You wasted all the stamina you needed, sillies. Surrender, unless you want us to make you hurt more."

Nick aimed and shot. The bullet hit half a foot before her boots. She fell back a step instinctively, but chuckled.

"This ain't gonna help if you shoot us. You don't have enough bullets."

"Next one goes into you," Nick called back, checking him magazine. "I don't wanna shoot you, but I will."

She seemed amused, squinting against the sun, shielding her eyes with a palm. "Right. Well, you wounded two now, and shot one of ours dead. It's severe and deserves some payback. Surrender now, and your girl won't pay for your shit. Come on, it's a fair deal, and it expires in twenty seconds."

Nick sighed, noticing how all the aches and pains harbored in his body started to pour into one huge pool that grew into a tall wave of suffering within ten seconds of what she counted. He was so damn tired. He just wanted to lie down and die. But Alicia deserved to not have her chance screwed up.

"Five seconds," the woman called.

"Just shoot the sonofabitch," the wounded man growled.

"That's primitive," she threw over her shoulder, then turned to scan the rock Nick was behind. "Come out now. Or you'll be sorry you didn't."

Nick thought of all the times he could have shot Troy and didn't. He thought of Ofelia's face when he glimpsed her that night at the ranch before the poison screwed him over. He thought of Jeremiah and his last words before Nick put a bullet in his head. He thought of Calvin, of their talk in the diner before he took Nick to slaughter.

Nick aimed and hit the wounded one in the head. The two men tending to him cursed, scooting away, all covered in brain spatter and blood.

Then they started shooting. It was a thunderstorm, deafening and disorienting. Wood splinters and chips of rock flew over Nick. When they slowed their fire one per few seconds, Nick prepared to try again, but the dog's jaws yanked at his arm. It got the jacket sleeve, luckily, and he shot it and shook the sleeve free.

And then the world tumbled, and Nick's temple exploded in a load of painful firecrackers. In a blurry series of visions, he saw a few silhouettes over him. Something clicked, and he felt a prick in his shoulder. It was… a dart.

"Bang, you lose," the woman said before the world went grey and black.


Alicia ran as quickly as she was able, for as far as she could. She couldn't tell how much time had passed since she left Nick but it already felt like an eternity. There had been no sounds of gunshots or screams of pain, and that soothed her some. Until she realized she was probably too far away to have heard them, anyway.

Eventually, she had to slow to a walk. Then a stumble. She was panting for air and her head was killing her. But she continued, thinking of Nick. He needed her. He needed her to get Troy.

Her foot caught on a raised tree root and she fell onto her hands and knees. That hurt, too, but didn't do nearly as much damage as that traitorous feeling of defeat closing in on her.

Alicia had to at least be halfway to the ranch now. She could make it.

She was about to push herself back on her feet when she heard rustling between the leaves to her right. She stared at the shrubs there, eyes wide, heart in her throat.

Please, be a deer. Hell, she'd even take an infected. But it was neither.

It was a great big dog that burst from the bushes and rushed for her. Alicia raised her gun and shot at it without even thinking. The bullet struck right between its frothing jaws and it fell to the forest floor with a brief whine. Then silent.

Shakily, Alicia got up, backtracking a few steps until she could find her balance and the right direction. She didn't make it five feet before something huge and hard slammed into her side and brought her back down on the ground. She struggled to turn around and caught sight of a huge man. He was built like a linebacker and more bear than human. He was on top of her, pinning her, prying the gun from her hand and throwing it out of reach. Then his giant fingers closed around her throat, squeezing hard. He grinned down at her as she gasped for air, gleeful and excited.

"Caught myself a pretty, little rabbit," he sneered, just before her world went dark.

Alicia seemed to dip in and out of consciousness in the time that followed, unable to comprehend much except for a familiar female voice calling out.

"Hey! She's not yours to touch!"

"Yet." The man growled, throwing Alicia over his shoulder, carrying her weight with ease. "Let's just get 'em back to camp."

Again time became a blurry concept. Most of her semi-conscious moments were experienced upside down and with a view of the fallen foliage. Alicia could have sworn they spent some time in a car, but when the hazy fog crowding her mind slowly dissipated, she wasn't sure anymore. She did see her brother, though. Someone hauled him away none-too-gently and stowed him in a trailer. The people who watched him spat in his wake. They seemed angry.

"Nick…" Alicia wheezed, surprised to hear the sound out loud. The bear-man whose shoulder she was carried on, flipped her around like a ragdoll until her feet feebly connected with the ground and he could hold her up by her throat.

His hold on her was agonizing, and tears briefly sprung to her eyes before another female voice ordered him to let her go and transfer her into the care of the girl from before.

"I'll be seeing you soon," he whispered in Alicia's ear before handing her over. Someone took hold of both her arms and half-carried, half-dragged her back into the trailer where Nick had found her earlier.

The woman who had come for them in the forest was not present this time. She'd been replaced with another young girl. The two of them repeated the ritual from earlier, only this time they were the ones to undress Alicia, probably realizing she could not make much of a resistance at this point, but nor would Alicia be much of a help.

The warm water was dangerously soothing, and despite her attempts at staying awake, Alicia dozed off for a few minutes here and there.

The next time she fully woke she was laying atop a cot, dressed in a white linen dress that had probably found the height of its popularity sometime in the 1800s. It was sleeveless and reached to her ankles, the fabric cinched just beneath her breasts as if they were supposed to be on display.

"Do you feel okay?"

It was the young girl from before. She was sporting a cut on her forehead from where Nick had hit her, but she no longer seemed as frightened. She perched on the bed beside Alicia and held out a bottle of water.

"You should drink something. There's bread, too."

This kindness confused Alicia. She lifted herself up on her elbows, regarding the girl warily.

"Where's my brother?" It hurt to speak. Her throat was sore. Almost like the time she'd had strep throat as a child.

The girl smiled gently. "He's safe. You'll see him later."

She pushed the bottle into Alicia's hand and Alicia accepted it, but didn't drink. The girl rose and went over to a nearby table, pulling a cloth away from a basket to reveal slices of homemade bread.

"What are you going to do to us?"

The girl was silent a moment, unwilling to meet Alicia's eyes. But she still smiled.

"You've been chosen," she said, a direct repeat of what she had told Alicia before. "It's a great honor."

Alicia swallowed, winced at that, and let her head fall back against the pillows.


Waking up was a bad experience. It took a long moment to put all the pieces together in his foggy brain. Nick found himself in the familiar trailer. A couple of blood drops dried on the floor, a few smeared – from his own wrists. They were bound behind his back once again. From the feel of it, there were three zip ties this time: one on each wrist, hooked together, and one more tying them both. He wasn't going to get out of this combination.

Nick sat up, grunted, and leaned against the wall, trying to get his wits together. His temple was pounding, probably blooming with a new bruise, and he felt utterly exhausted. That tranquilizer dart had stuffed his head with cotton.

He glanced at the window. The sun was still up and shining. Nick dared estimate it was about one or two in the afternoon. It was going to be a long day. The longest and probably the last.


"You really should drink something," the girl said again, looking at the water bottle. Alicia held it out to her.

"You first."

The girl indulged her and took a sip then proceeded to take a bite of the bread. Alicia watched her a long time as she puttered around the trailer, fetching various items including a comb and rubber bands. She looked fine. Alicia helped herself to some water, but struggled to swallow any. It hurt too much going down. She didn't even bother with the bread.

The door opened and the girl from before, a brunette, entered carrying a tray of tiny glass vials. This was getting weirder by the minute.

"Fuck this…" Alicia murmured under her breath and tried to get on her feet. She swayed lightly and the two caught her before she could topple over and faceplant the floor.

"Careful," the brunette chided as they carefully placed her back on the bed. They didn't force Alicia to lie down, though. "Save your strength."

Again, the need to ask them what the hell for sprang to mind, but Alicia didn't bother. Every time she tried, she was met with the same response: You've been chosen. It's a great honor.

They sat on either side of her, brushing her hair as though Alicia was their new doll, not stopping until her scalp felt raw and sore. They added a few tiny braids and small purple flowers, dabbed some sort of essential oils along her collarbone and cleavage, and some other concoction Alicia didn't recognize on her forehead. They murmured nonsense about spirits and blessings and sacrifices that needed to be made. In the end, Alicia tuned them out, relaxed as best she could to gather her strength for whatever was coming next.


As Nick sat with nothing else to do but try to think and take inventory of himself, he noticed the jacket was gone. It contained most of the gore, and he guessed that was the reason.

Sometime later, the door opened, and the woman that chased the siblings with her group came in. She wore a sardonic smile.

"So, was it worth it?" she asked, her arms folding.

"Which 'it' do you mean?"

"Any you can think of," she shrugged. "Was it?"

He thought about it a moment. "It was worth it to try to get away from you crazy lot," he said, regarding her with a tired interest. "I'm not proud of shooting at your people, even less so the dogs, but given you kept chasing, yeah, it was worth it."

She looked thoughtful, mulling it over, then nodded subtly, glancing under her feet. Next, her eyes locked on him again, this time with a sharper edge. "Jack was dear to us. So were the dogs."

"I know," he said simply. "She is dear to me, too. Why did you take her?"

"She's the conduit," she said. "For the spirits. And you're the offering. You will open the door."

Nick frowned, straining to understand. It was some kind of religious bullshit, but there was logic in it. He had to get it right. Both Clarks depended on it. "What does a conduit do?"

She seemed to debate continuing this conversation, but then decided to humor him. "Lets the spirits touch us. And you are the key. Who are you to her?"

Nick wasn't sure if it could bring any more harm to say the truth. "Brother."

She smiled, her brows rising in brief display of pleased surprise. "The better. Blood is the best key when it's the same. It was worth it chasing you." She shrugged. "I thought you should know in return."

A knock on the door. She cracked it open.

"All clear, let's do this."

"Okay," she turned to Nick. "Get up."

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to not beat it out of you, if you please? Because I don't mind – Jack was my family."

Considering it reasonable enough, Nick struggled to his feet. She pulled a gun from the holster, but didn't point it. She gestured at the door with it.

"Go ahead. Don't let me assist you."

Nick obeyed. His head hurt enough as it was, and he felt he needed it clearer for whatever the pagans had planned.

The woman and an armed man escorted him to the trailer he found Alicia in earlier. The tub was half-filled. A bucket with water stood next to it. A heap that he recognized to be his old clothes rested on the floor next to it.

The man stayed outside while she cut the zip ties, then nudged Nick toward the tub with the gun muzzle in the back. "Wash and put your stuff on, you got fifteen minutes. Starting now."

Nick turned to look at her, expecting her to leave him to it. She leaned against the wall, her arms folded, eyeing him ironically. Nick started to peel off Sam's clothes.

The water was probably straight from the lake, cold. When he was done and reached for his shirt, his teeth were clattering, his skin covered in goosebumps.

"So how does that key-conduit thing work?" he ventured once again.

"Your blood will unlock the door," she replied like it was something as trivial and obvious as the color of the sky. "The spirits shall come into her and be with us. It was promised for this moon."

Nick was balancing between irrational fear at how dangerous fanatics could be and anger at their making them a part of their crazy-ass shit they never asked for. The sheer unfairness of it all was stabbing him repeatedly. Deep down, he felt a pang of regret he didn't kill Sam. Would have been one asshole less.

She put new zip ties on his suffering wrists and escorted him back where she left him sitting on the floor, sort of clean and waiting for whatever doom they were cooking for the Clarks, the chosen ones.


Once they finished up at Henry's place, Troy took the girl to the cabin they'd parked the jeep in front of. Thankfully, it was still there when they arrived and untouched.

Troy didn't like leaving it out there, exposed, but as of yet those trailer loonies hadn't come up this way and there was nothing to be done about that anyway.

Maybe because they didn't need to.

Katie held the box of explosives, fear radiating off her like fever.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. He dumped the weapons from the container into the box. He could see her look at them with deep consideration and near longing, and part of him wanted her to try for it.

The vindictive part that thirsted for blood in retribution for what she'd done to his friends.

He unscrewed the water bottle, filling it up from one of the larger ones they'd found.

"You want? It's probably not as tasty as last night's concoction but it should do."

She shook her head. He smirked and took a long sip, shutting the doors, gesturing for her to walk toward the cabin. The blankets were still outside on the railing where Alicia had left them to air out.

Once inside, Troy emptied one of the clothing bags he'd found in the car parked in the garage and stuffed all the weapons into them, along with the recently filled water bottle.

"How many of them are there?" he asked.

It hadn't mattered before because he didn't know how much and what he could get his hands on.

Katie stared at him. "W-what are y-you going to do?"

He blinked, dumbfounded and a lot annoyed. "I'm going to invite them over for thanksgiving dinner," he snapped sarcastically. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

"Y-you c-can't do it."

Did she really think he was going to? What the hell was she on about? Did her brains rattle out of her ears on the last trip over here or was she having a premature breakdown?

"You c-can't kill them."

Ah. He screwed the scope back onto his rifle, checked the ammunition and slung it onto his shoulder.

"You d-do that and you'll ruin the ritual."

"This ritual… that… involves my friends, right?"

She swallowed thickly as if it had only just occurred to her how close they were.

"What do you think we've been doing for the last half hour? Gathering ingredients for a cookout? Katie. Use. Your. Brain. Or at least what's left of it. You're not dead yet."

Her eyes welled up and no part of him felt a stitch of pity for his malice, hell, his father had said worse to him on any given Sunday. It would make her stronger – in time.

"Again." Troy straightened up and removed the knife. "How many of them are there? Do they have weapons? What kind? How many men? Women? Are there children?"

Anything that I could leverage that would be worth a damn besides you!

She was fully crying now, sobbing obnoxiously. He hated that sound almost as much as he loved the sound of the safety snapping off a gun.

He grabbed one of the cotton shirts he'd dumped on the floor and cut it into ratty strips, knotting them together to make them longer before winding them around the trembling girl's ankles. Her shock sliced through her cry and her hand immediately lashed out to grip his shoulder, as if somehow that was going to stop what he was doing and he'd see reason to her madness.

When Troy was done with her ankles and satisfied that they were cutting enough circulation to be uncomfortable, he took a hold of her wrist, hauled her to her feet and wrenched her arm behind her back to tie them together. He wasn't gentle about it, either. The only punishment he could afford at this moment.

"My parents will look for me! Dave knows I left with you!"

"And just what do you think Dave and your parents will think when I tell them you've been fooling around with human sacrifice? The occult?"

It had been a test, but from the way she flushed and turned a shade of extra white, he could tell that maybe the older generation didn't know what their spring chickens were getting up to.

"Oh," he taunted with a grin, dropping the knife onto the open weapons bag, scooping her off her feet and onto his free shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Someone's going to be grounded when they get home."

Troy picked up the bag and carried her outside, clicking his tongue to call Fido as he headed for the garage. The horse trotted over as if he'd been with them forever and knew what to listen and when to ignore a command.

A good dog.

Troy dropped both the girl and the bag onto the ground and opened the large door, grabbing the back of the girl's shirt to drag her into the depth of the space. She kicked and writhed as the ground tore whatever flesh came in contact with gravel, struggling to sit up as he let her go.

Next, he retrieved Fido, slipping him into the safety of the garage to act as a companion to the girl and more importantly to keep him safe. If Troy left him outside unattended and he got killed, when Troy managed to rescue Nick (and Alicia) he'd never hear the end of it from the Clarks.

"Comfy?" he asked rhetorically, stepping in front of the horse as he tried to escape, pressing a hand gently to his muzzle to coax him back. There wasn't time for water and there wasn't time for more grass. "Keep an eye on Fido."

With that, Troy stretched up for the edge of the door and shut them inside, confident that the girl wouldn't scream and that even if she did that she wouldn't be heard. He picked up his bag, slung it over his free shoulder and resolutely headed for the trees to make his way to the trailers.


The next time the door opened to Alicia's trailer, a woman in her fifties stepped inside. She was tall and slender, had long greying hair that fell beneath her shoulders, and deep laugh lines around her eyes. They made her look deceptively friendly.

Both of the girls beamed up at her, watching her reverently, with the utmost respect and something akin to adoration. Did that make her a leader of this place then?

She came to stand before Alicia and held her hands out for hers. Alicia didn't take them. The woman didn't seem to mind and pulled Alicia to her feet anyway before she looked her over with a pleased expression.

"Well done, sisters," she praised the younger ones, though never took her eyes off the prize. Her hands cupped Alicia's face with great care, like a mother caressing her daughter's cheeks. "You are very beautiful, child. Brave too, I imagine. Strong of mind and will. That is why the spirits chose you."

Her gaze moved around the room as if she could see something Alicia could not and she smiled. When she looked at Alicia again, her eyes fell to the bruises blossoming on her throat. The woman frowned.

"I am sorry about that. I wish Benjamin had been more careful. But we couldn't lose you. You are too important."

"Why?" Alicia asked instantly, unable to keep the anger in her voice at bay.

"You are the conduit."

"Conduit of what?"

"The spirits."

Alicia didn't understand. Did the woman mean they believed Alicia would somehow be able to communicate with whatever deities they worshipped? Or when she said spirits, did she mean the souls of those who had passed?

"I don't understand," Alicia admitted.

The older woman smiled benevolently, stroking her cheek. "It will all become clear. Soon, you will know everything there is to know. You will be one with the spirits."

The more they talked, the more questions Alicia had and none of the answers anyone provided her seemed to solve a damned thing.

The woman turned to the two girls. "It's time. Get ready."

They eagerly rose from the bed and each of them took one of Alicia's arms in theirs, leading her out of the trailer.

"I want to see my brother," Alicia called back over her shoulder at the woman.

"You will see him soon," she responded calmly, disappearing from view as the girls and Alicia headed out.

There were a few people gathered outside, seemingly packing and preparing. They all stopped what they were doing to watch the girls as they moved, and Alicia did not like what she saw reflected in their gazes as they looked at her. Especially the men. There was a predatory hunger there that made a shiver run down her spine.

Bear-man, Benjamin as the woman had called him, licked his lips as they passed, sharpening a hunter's knife on a piece of whetstone. Alicia averted her gaze to look straight ahead, finding that her breathing had become more erratic and difficult to control.

"Where are we going?"

"To the red tent," the brunette next to Alicia said, as if that explained everything. "It won't be long now."


There was a commotion around the trailers as Troy approached in a crouch. People coming and going, some with more purpose than others, a handful carrying boxes and crates and other intricate bullshit that was hard to make out but looked purely decorative. If he didn't know about the ritual, he'd think that they were either leaving or planning a rummage sale at the new all dead bazaar. Katie hadn't told him much about it out of fear that far exceeded his threats or because she was a loyalist, that or she was just plain dumb and didn't have a clue what she was trying to protect. The more time he'd spent with her, the easier it was to believe that it had to do with the latter. She was just a manipulated teen that these people had won over with fictitious stories of glory and riches and a promise to protect her from the undead.

Why else would she be in this deep? Why also would the people at the ranch simply choose to believe that their guests disappeared in the middle of the night? She hadn't elaborated on that part too much and Troy hadn't asked.

If they survived this, maybe he would.

He momentarily pressed himself against the side of a tree, set the bag down behind it and removed his rifle from his shoulder to get a closer look. There were a lot of men, a lot of women, one or two children spread out here and few dogs leashed close to their owners.

They didn't look particularly fierce but sharp teeth would slow any man down.

Troy caught sight of familiar mop of hair that belonged to Nick and breathed a sigh of relief that he was still alive. Considering the time of night they'd left, the unknown and the hour's in-between, Troy'd been worried the outcome might be different and less favorable and that all of this would inevitably lead to revenge.

And nothing more.

He didn't come out again and then another door opened a few moments later, displaying another familiar figure as she was forcefully guided toward what Troy assumed was her chariot.

Where were they taking her? Would Nick be going, too?

Whatever they were planning was in motion and Troy could sense that he was going to have to act fast. He removed a handgun, the machete, some bullets and a couple of the homemade explosives, tucking them into his pockets and around his waist strategically, wishing he had an actual holster or ammunition belt to make things easier.

He fell to his knees, dug a shallow hole beside the tree and clumsily covered the bag with the sand.

It wasn't the best but it was concealed enough to fool someone from a distance.

He picked up his rifle again, raising it as he ran down the sandy incline, staying close to the ground and close to the trees that had faded out in parts and taken his cover with it.

He'd made it as far as the first line of trailers on the outside of the little township without a hassle. He shrugged off the rifle as it would be no use to him in close combat and hid it beneath the trailer where he could get to it.

He freed up his gun, along with a stick of homemade dynamite and lit the latter, giving it a couple of seconds before he'd tossed it over and into the middle of their collective group. Troy didn't wait for the bang he knew was coming and ran from trailer to trailer, tossing the few explosives he had until there was one left.

Shouts broke out in unison and bullets started flying.


Nick couldn't get warm for a long time. He sat shivering as the images and thoughts fluttered around him, some touching and some grasping to claim all the attention, presenting all the things he had done wrong and all the good chances he had missed. Showing him from different angles the simple truth of how far he still was from what he wanted to be. How much shit he had chosen to do that never got him anywhere he hoped to get. All the killings, all the violence seemed to be in vain. All for nothing. As it always had been when he tried to do the right thing and got it worse, and even worse when he went for a deal with conscience and did the wrong things. It was all the same, all the roads led to hell.

Something exploded outside. His eyes snapped open, his pulse jumped and took off galloping. Another explosion – this time closer. He could feel the tremors in the floor and the walls of the trailer. A few more explosions followed, peppered with gunfire. Someone was storming the camping ground, and he had a faint hope he knew that someone.

Had Alicia gotten to Troy, after all? Had she managed to escape? Had they lied to Nick about all that conduit shit?

The shooting and yelling went on for a while. Nick couldn't make out anything specific, nor guess how it was going. When it all went quiet, leaving the muffled voices, he felt his hope seep out of him like sand from a crack in the hour-glass.

He heard some footfalls approaching. The door opened, and two men dragged in a third. They deposited Troy in the other corner. His hands were tied behind his back; he was unconscious. A bleeding cut on the side of his forehead where the hairline started.

The familiar woman stepped in when the men got out. She jerked her chin toward Troy. "A brother of yours, I presume?"

"Adopted."

She chuckled and left.

Nick leaned his head against the wall, eyeing Troy.

There goes the damn hope.


Alicia was stuffed into a car and whatever hope she had of seeing Nick again quickly waned. Was he even still alive? Did they keep telling her he was safe simply to keep her calm and willing to cooperate?

The two girls slid in on either side of her in the backseat, and off they went. A man looking to be in his early forties was driving and another of a similar age sat beside him in the front passenger seat, a rifle draped across his lap. They didn't openly ogle her like the others at the camp had, but she could sense their interest, sneaky glances thrown over their shoulders every now and then, excitement building. It was disconcerting and bizarre, and filled her with the urge to lunge for the door. But what would be the point? Even if she were to make it out of the car, they'd catch her in no time. Especially if Alicia faceplanted the asphalt during her escape.

The drive didn't take long. Perhaps ten minutes in total. They parked the car on the outskirts of a forest and they walked another two or three minutes among the tall pine trees in order to get to their destination.

She understood then what the girl had meant when she said they were taking Alicia to the red tent. It was literally a red tent. Only, not the kind you would use for camping. It was more of a marquee. Something one would use at a renaissance fair or in movies depicting medieval times. It seemed crazy that someone would even prioritize carrying such an item in these apocalyptic times, but then again, weren't they all crazy?

There were old carpets and rugs on the ground inside, pillows strewn about as if inviting people to come lie down. Garlands of flowers and herbs hung from the ceiling, and in the center of the tent stood a large and sturdy wooden table. It had been covered with a red velvet fabric and decorated with more flowers, apples, and some sort of ceremonial knife. There were lanterns everywhere, illuminating the room with an eerie hue that made Alicia want to flee but that seemed to have the opposite effect on everyone else. The girls at her side looked practically euphoric.

There were already a few other women here, dressed in simple off-white linen dresses. Unlike the one Alicia was currently sporting, theirs looked homemade and identical to one another.

Alicia was handed over to these other women who urged her to sit on the heap of plush pillows with them. For a moment she refused, but at the sound of a gun being lazily cocked in the open doorway, Alicia swallowed her pride and gave in.

They touched her hair, smoothing each stray strand into place, and rubbed and dabbed her arms and chest with more oils, practically grooming her while she surveyed the room itself. The knife on that makeshift altar had looked sharp enough to do some damage. If she could get to it she might have a chance.

The two girls returned before long, now also wearing the same dresses as their older "sisters", and they were wandering the tent with smudge sticks. Alicia assumed at first it was sage, what people always used in the movies to cleanse a house, but it didn't smell like it. Whatever it was it briefly made her eyes water and her head heavy. But those sensations eased up soon enough once they finished.

"Here. Drink this." One of the older women at her side held out a cup of something steaming. Alicia regarded it suspiciously.

"What is it?"

"Tea," she said, smiling gently and urging Alicia to take the mug.

She didn't, turning her head away in silent rejection of her offer.

That was a mistake. Because the four women who had previously treated her relatively kindly suddenly pounced like wildcats, holding her still, forcing her head to remain in place, squeezing her cheeks and jaw painfully until her mouth opened and they were able to pour the liquid down her throat, little by little. It hurt to swallow, but it hurt even more to cough, and in the end, Alicia simply let them carry on so it would end sooner.

They released her when the mug was empty, carefully dabbing at her mouth and chin where some of the tea had spilled and continued to treat her as if she were a doll for them to make pretty.

The tea itself hadn't tasted much, but she still felt nauseous, whether because of the assault on her body or because her stomach was suddenly full.

"Where's my brother?"

The question wasn't new, but Alicia felt they had never given her a satisfactory answer.

"He's safe. You'll see him soon," they intoned in unison, as if this was something they had practiced.

She briefly clenched her fists in frustration.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"We aren't going to do anything to him," one of the women said, her fingers combing through Alicia's long hair. She'd put significant pressure on the "we" part.

"He is the test. The trial. You are the reward."


When during the battle Troy'd seen black and been hit by something from behind, he'd anticipated it to be for the last time and that finally—like Jake, his mother, Jeremiah—he would understand what was waiting for them on the other side of this warped experimentation, and as always, internally he'd accepted it. Only that wasn't what happened, and for the second time that morning he woke up with raging headache. Troy didn't believe this one was as much drug induced as it was centered on a throbbing on the side of his forehead, an estimation he found he couldn't confirm or alleviate as his hands were tied behind his back.

His first thought was: why the fuck hadn't they killed me? And his second, well, that was semi grateful and more urgent once his company came into view.

"Remind me again why you didn't want me to kill these people when we got here?"

Nick heaved a sigh, feeling like chuckling inwardly, but unable to perform it.

"Because all life is precious until you gotta fight for your own." He regarded Troy with lazy interest. "How come you haven't done it while I wasn't there to stop you?"

Despite the headache and their dire situation, Troy rolled his eyes. Was Nick shitting him? All life was precious until you fought for your own? What kind of shit had they been feeding him?

"Have you been stuck in this closet the entire time? Have you seen the amount of people out there? I hoped for a better outcome – to at least – kill half of them or maim them, but I saw your sister being led away to a car, assumed you were next and reacted. There wasn't much room for a decent plan. How come they haven't killed you yet? What's this ritual about? Can we get out of here?"

Nick stared at him awhile, his head spinning in failing attempts to catch up to the questions. Alicia… a car… what was going on and had they already started?

Nick winced, trying to focus. "There's enough of them. A small group of five chased us for an hour as we tried to escape. I made Alicia run as I stayed behind to slow them down, but I guess that didn't work. Nor did your solo rescue mission – nice job, by the way. How did you even find out?"

Pity Troy hadn't made it here in time when they were on the loose. The three of them might have stood a chance of overpowering the loonies and wiping them out. Troy still was going to when he got the chance.

"You're welcome," he stated as sarcastically as his praise was, bringing his legs up along his side, forcing himself to sit up so that he could attempt to free his hands of its unseen restraints. "Katie. The girl's a few screws short of actual sense."

That was the least of their concerns and he'd scarcely answered any of Troy's necessary questions.

"Where are they taking Alicia?"


Nothing happened for a long time. They seemed to just be waiting, but no one would tell Alicia what they were waiting for. The two men standing guard outside of the marquee were communicating with someone else through walkie-talkies, but she couldn't hear what was being said on either end.

Her nausea grew, and for a while Alicia was tempted to lie back against the pillows behind her. But she didn't, wouldn't allow herself. It made her all too vulnerable.

She fixed her gaze on a particular blue flower hanging from the ceiling, deciding to focus only on that to push the nausea and exhaustion to the back of her mind. She tried to pull Nick to the forefront, to keep the image of his face bright and clear before her inner eye, to take strength and courage from him. She needed to be strong. For her brother.

But something about that flower kept distracting her, stole all her focus. It shimmered with the strangest colors, transforming from blue to green and a hint of orange. That was strange. But it was beautiful and enchanting. She wondered what it would taste like. Would it be sweet like fruit? Or bitter? Was it poison?

She reached for it but it was too far away. The woman next to her smiled and took Alicia's hand in hers, lowering them to the ground between them. She hummed a melody that was soothing, but it sounded distant, as if her voice was trapped in a metal container.

Alicia blinked slowly and looked at her throat as she sang. So passed the next ten minutes.


Nick shook his head subtly. "They don't really like explaining shit. They said some weird stuff about the spirits and her being a conduit while I'm a key or something… The only thing that's clear to me is she won't like any of it. Nor will I." He reflected a moment, then added: "They loved finding out we're siblings. Something to do with blood. And that's also painting a vivid picture for me. They're gonna murder me and do some nasty shit to her in the name of some spirits. And then probably kill you, too." He regarded Troy. "Is there just one zip tie on you?"

Troy suspected the crazies were going to do all that gross shit and they were still sitting here talking about it? They should be gnawing through each other's restraints with their fucking teeth!

He tugged at his wrists, feeling for what he assumed was in fact zip tie biting into the abused flesh but Troy didn't care – only his head wouldn't allow him to flourish.

He nodded despite the strain.

Whatever they'd hit him with had produced quite the punch.

"When we get out here and I murder these people. We're going to confiscate their shit."

He kept trying though, gritting his teeth, threatening to grind them down and then stopped as a muscle tweaked painfully and threatened to seize into cramp.

Dammit!

Using his shoulders and numbing fingers, Troy levered himself into a straighter position, brought his knees up beneath him and slowly started to crawl toward Nick, consequences be damned.

This was about timing, not eloquence.

Nick watched him struggle for a bit, then shook his head.

"Troy, just stop, listen to me. Hey, listen. Sit back, catch your breath, then find the zip tie end with your fingers and pull at it, tighten it. As much as you can."

Troy looked at him with surprise and disbelief. It amused Nick that he didn't know about that trick.

"It creates more tension in the lock," Nick explained. "The tighter, the better. When it's as tight as it gets, strain your arms, pull your elbows apart and break the tie. Won't be easy, but it's the only way."

The footfalls approached, the door opened. They stilled like two naughty kids caught at a cookie jar. It was the woman and another man waiting in the doorway. She came up to Nick with a syringe, and stuck it in his shoulder.

Troy flinched, but caught Nick's eye and luckily thought better of it. Nick couldn't shake his head or do anything but give Troy a short stare to make him play it cool and fool them. But deep down, Nick trusted he knew what and how to do. They needed to trust he was okay.

Nick's head started swimming, some weird weariness spilled through his body, his eyelids started to droop. He realized he couldn't fight it. There was no way, and that was the point. They didn't trust him being docile, anymore.

Before the world drifted away, Nick saw her check Troy's restraints to make sure.

"You be a good boy now," she told Troy, then gestured for her companion to get Nick when it was clear the sedative worked. There wasn't much time to waste, anymore. She felt a rush of excitement, as well as everyone else in their 'family'. She left Troy with a parting wink, as if it was some inner joke.

After another twenty minutes, their car parked between the trees. Through the trunks and shrubs, they saw the red tent.

"What now?" the driver asked, stepping out.

"The last preparation," the woman named Sarah said, jerking her head toward Nick. "Get him out there, to the fire."

The driver and another young man pulled Nick out and carried him after Sarah. They put him on the ground next to what was going to be a huge bonfire in the end of their fest, and stepped away.

"We're here!" Sarah called to the tent and stepped back with the men.

"Your brother is here. Do you want to see him?"

Alicia didn't know which of the women had spoken but nodded fervently anyway. Someone helped her to her feet and led her outside into the clearing. There were more people here now, and they all blurred together into an unidentifiable mass as they approached them.

There was a body on the ground next to a large pile of wood and it took Alicia a moment but she eventually identified him as Nick.

"Nick," she whispered, staggering forward, surprised that nothing held her back. No one was grasping her arms anymore and she was free to move. She lowered to her haunches beside him, one hand on the ground to keep her balance, the other nudging his shoulder.

"Nick. Wake up," she whispered again, annoyed that her brother was sleeping this moment away. Her voice sounded strange, magnified and loud, like through a microphone. "We have to leave, Nick."

He didn't stir. Didn't move a single muscle. An overwhelming sadness came over her then, and she cried silently, gently stroking his cheek to try and coax him to open his eyes, to look at her.

"Nick, please, please wake up."

Something happened but it was not what she had hoped for. Nick's face darkened as if a shadow had fallen over him. His skin rotted and peeled away in places, exposing tendons and teeth and bone. When his eyes snapped open, they were a milk-white. Empty.

Alicia screamed and threw herself away from him. Someone caught her, holding her close, keeping her from toppling over.

"What's happening?" someone asked. "What's wrong with her?"

"The energy of the spirits is overwhelming her," another replied. "She craves the blood, the release. It is time."

Alicia's legs were reluctant to move and whoever held her helped her along. She looked back over her shoulder, straining to see Nick, afraid of the sight that would meet her. But he was just Nick again. Just her brother. And they were taking him from her.

She screamed his name, over and over, but it changed nothing. He didn't wake. They didn't stop. And Alicia was taken back into the darkness of the tent.